


grapefruit, rosemary, and rain

by dogmouth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Slow Build, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmouth/pseuds/dogmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witch AU. Alfred knows that he should keep walking, continue trying to find the right path, but the sun is  high in the sky, warming his tan skin, and the dappled shade in the forest is too inviting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grapefruit, rosemary, and rain

**Author's Note:**

> first fic in a long time for hetalia! this is my warmup and I really hope to write more, so I hope everyone likes this.  
> based off a lyric from the song Return To The Moon - EL VY, but this is not a song fic.
> 
> "bought a saltwater fish from a colorblind witch because she said she loved it"

Alfred stared up at the blue sky, shielding his eyes from the yellow sun, and said aloud, “Guess I’m lost.”

He’s not sure how it happened. He had listened to the old man in the town before who pointed him in the right direction, croaking, _“Just follow this path and when you get to the dark woods, make a left, and the next town will be in the distance”_ and Alfred had nodded. It was simple enough, so he didn’t think to write it down.

He thinks now maybe he should have.

.

Alfred thinks that this isn’t too bad of a place to get lost. All around him are yellow fields, spotted with red and blue flowers, swaying in the gentle breeze. As Alfred continues on in this new direction, he feels grasshoppers jump around his feet. He smiles to himself, taking a deep breath in. He leans down to brush the tips of his fingers along the tips of the green grass. Above him, a flock of blackbirds with red tipped wings fly from a nearby tree.

Alfred knows that he should keep walking, continue trying to find the right path, but the sun is  high in the sky, warming his tan skin, and the dappled shade in the forest is too inviting.

Alfred settles himself underneath an oak tree, placing his backpack behind his neck for support. He lets his eyes close just as a breeze comes through, rustling the leaves above him.

Yeah, this isn’t so bad.

.

When Alfred wakes, the blue sky had gone from orange to purple, and he knows immediately that someone is watching him. He stays where he is, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light and trying to ignore the rush in his ears.

After a few moments, he tries to think of something to do, something to say, but Alfred can only call out, dumbly, “Hello?”

Surprisingly, he hears a voice behind him respond. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Alfred yelps, startled, and scrambles on his hands and knees away from the tree. Something wraps around his ankle, preventing escape, and Alfred is trapped. He stares into the dark night, wide eyed, skin tingling. He hears the grass move as footsteps approach from behind and he holds his breath, waiting.

Alfred blinks when a young man steps into his view and stares down at him. There are vines and flowers wrapping around his feet, moving like water. Alfred suddenly realizes that it’s a vine wrapped around his own ankle, and he starts to feel dizzy. When he finally manages to look up and meet the man’s gaze, he holds back a gasp. Even in the darkness, the stranger's green eyes are startling.

“I said you shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, staring down at Alfred with an unreadable expression. “It’s not safe here at night.”

Alfred ignores him and his eyes fall back to the vine’s, still moving slowly. “Are you doing that?”

The man hesitates before he answers. “Yes.”

“And is the vine, around my ankle, also because of you?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Excuse me?”

Alfred closed his eyes and the colors around him vanished into black.

.

When Alfred wakes up, his senses are immediately overwhelmed. His eyes dart around and take in all the green around him; there are too many plants for him to count, all varying in size and shape. Their scents mix in the air and cloud his nose. Hanging from the walls are glass chambers, holding even more plants, stones, and candles. The tiny flames dance in the soft breeze drifting in from the open window and Alfred thinks they look a bit like stars. Distantly, he realizes there’s an odd taste in his mouth and that somewhere, a voice swears loudly.

The part that is most overwhelming is all the colors. Alfred notices, as he takes the time to control his breathing, that nothing matches. There are no patterns or colors in the room that belong together; the pictures don’t match with the bedding that doesn’t match the wall color that doesn’t match the carpet. Even the pots that hold the plants are bizarre.

Once Alfred calms down, he thinks the room is beautiful.

Slowly, he swings his legs off the side of the bed and notices, for the first time, that he’s barefoot. He also notices that something warm, and soft, moves underneath his toes.

“Well hi there,” Alfred smiles as a large black cat purrs, stretching out. “It seems I’ve made a new friend.” The cat looks up and meows, giving one last stretch before it gets up and heads toward the door. When the cat notices that Alfred isn’t following, it meows again.

“Sorry, sorry, here I come.”

As Alfred follows the cat, he sees that the house is no different than the room he was in before. He makes sure to walk carefully, making an effort not to step on any of the plants leaves. The black cat turns a corner and Alfred can smell something burning. There’s another swear.

For the second time in a short while, Alfred finds himself overpowered.

The man he met before in the woods is standing in the kitchen angrily opening and closing cabinets, as if looking for something. Alfred notices, with a laugh, that his clothes aren’t matching. The man whips around when he hears Alfred, a scowl still on his handsome face.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” he says, looking Alfred up and down, “I didn’t think you’d actually faint.”

Though the answer is clear at this point, Alfred asks anyway. “Are you a witch?”

The man snorts, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “What gave me a way first, the fact that I can move plants or all the cats?”

Alfred is suddenly filled with intense curiosity, a wide grinning filling his face. “I’ve never met a witch before! Can you teach me some magic? Do you have some kind of title?”

“No, no I don’t. My name is just Arthur,” he said apprehensively, seemingly suspicious with Alfred’s sudden enthusiasm. Alfred had a feeling that maybe that was because Arthur wasn’t used to it, but didn’t say anything about it. “Besides, we wouldn't have time for anything. Or at least I'm assuming from your travel pack that you have plans elsewhere.”

Just like that, Alfred remembers his intended goal, and rolls his eyes at his own forgetfulness. "I was heading to the next town but ended up getting lost. But that's okay! I'm in no rush, I've got the time." 

"I suppose it's easy to get lost around here," Arthur mumbles, as if to himself, before speaking directly at Alfred with a noncommittal shrug. "And I’m not very interested in teaching anyone anything at the moment."

Arthur turned back around before he could notice Alfred’s pout. When Arthur continued to search, Alfred forgot about his momentary blues and his attention was resparked. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a bottle but I can’t see-” Arthur stuttered momentarily before continuing, but Alfred tilted his head, “I just can’t find it. There’s no label.”

“Can I help?”

Arthur spun around, green eyes wide, and Alfred wasn’t sure what he said wrong. “Excuse me?”

“I just wanted to know if I can help in any way.” Alfred watched Arthur’s face, watched how it went from confusion, to fear, to almost shame. When Arthur spoke, his voice sounded fragile.

“I’m looking for a bottle with lavender liquid in it. There should be gold flecks in it.”

Nodding, Alfred walked over to Arthur and was overwhelmed by his presence. Alfred had heard once in a small village that witches had that effect, on some people. Blinking out of his haze, Alfred reopened the cabinets, searching, before he finally saw the small, purple vial with tiny stars in it. When Alfred pulled it out, Arthur let out a breath, as if he had been holding it this entire time.

.

It was midday and Alfred had still not left Arthur’s home. While Arthur was busy, Alfred took the chance to wander and marvel at all the thing’s Arthur owned. Aside from the bedroom, no other room was devoted to just one thing; stacks of books lined the hallways and empty bottles left forgotten on shelves. Alfred’s favorite part was all of the fish, and they were just as colorful and unique as the rest of the house. Alfred smiled, already growing fond of it all, when he finds a garden full of herbs outside. At his feet, a small diluted calico twines between his legs, purring. Her colors are muted, and Alfred thinks she is the first thing he’s seen that isn't rich in colors.

“Thank you for earlier,” a soft voice says behind Alfred, and he watches, fascinated, as the herbs in the garden sway slightly in Arthur’s direction. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you before.”

Turning, Alfred smiles at Arthur, full faced and warm. “It was nothing. Besides, you saved me earlier. Anyone else would have probably left me.” Alfred laughs. “And whatever is lurking around would have had an easy target.”

Arthur smiles, slightly amused, but his eyes darken just a bit. “There are lots of evil spirits in this forest that don’t like humans, let alone strangers. I do my best to keep them at bay.”

In the distance, storm clouds let out a rumble, and both men look up at the darkening peach sky.

“I don’t know your name,” Arthur says, though his eyes are still upward and his face looks faintly expectant. 

“My name’s Alfred, and I’m a traveler.” Alfred says the last word proudly.

“Do you like the rain, Alfred?” Arthur’s voice is still oddly breathless, and Alfred finds the question strange, but he also thinks Arthur is very strange and wonderful, so he answers.

“It’s not good when I’ve got to sleep out in the open, which is most nights, but yes, I think I like the rain. It’s refreshing.”

Another distant sound of thunder and Arthur is swiftly out of his trance. “Unless you would like to leave sooner for this town, I think it would be best for you to spend the night. I wasn’t able to make my rounds today, so the spirits will be more restless than usual.”

Alfred’s chest fills with delight at the invitation and doesn’t try to hide it in his face when he meets Arthur’s radient green eyes.

“Only if you insist.”

.

They are inside well before the rain starts, and Alfred watches as Arthur is unable to stay away from the window. He took the time earlier to put some of the plants outside, Alfred helping carry some of the heavier ones. It’s only the two of them, sitting near the rain; once the thunder got continuously louder, most of the cats had found themselves safer hiding spots. Alfred watches Arthur’s face intently, completely obvious, but Arthur doesn’t say anything about it.

“I can feel them, you know.” Arthur murmurs in the dark, green eyes still watching the wet green outside. His voice sounds so strangely blissful, and Alfred is captivated by it. “When the plants soak up the rain, I can feel it, like the rain is refreshing my skin.”

“That sounds amazing.” By the sound of Alfred’s raptured voice, Arthur finally turns to him, and Alfred can’t help feel delighted when their eyes meet. “Really, really wonderful.”

“You don’t think this is all strange?” Arthur’s voice doesn’t sound accusing, but Alfred thinks in any other circumstance that it would. “Most people don’t have the fondness for witches as they do for everyone else.”

Alfred shrugs, and he think that way of thinking is foolish. “I mean, yeah, it’s strange, but strange doesn’t mean it has to be bad. You do a lot to keep this forest peaceful, and I like your cats.” He looks at Arthur who can’t match his clothes and treats his plants as if they are his heart, Arthur who saved Alfred despite not knowing who he was. Alfred unexpectedly feels shy,and his tongue feels too big in his mouth. “Besides, I’m pretty fond of you already.”

Arthur tries to scoff off the comment, but Alfred can see that his face has softened. He looks back out the window and sighs, and Alfred thinks it sounds content.

.

Over breakfast the next morning, Arthur asks, “So you’re a traveller, is that right?”

With a mouth full of toast smothered in berries from the forest, Alfred nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm!” He swallowed before continuing, only because Arthur had scolded him when he did it before. “I decided one day that I wanted to see more than what I knew, so I left home.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, rolling an opal stone casually on the table. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Alfred parroted. “I just had a restless curiosity and I just acted on that. Back home we would get some travelers and the stories they would tell were amazing! Stories about knights going on heroic adventures, thieves stealing from kings, and one man said a pack of werewolves nursed him back to help when he was injured.” Alfred waggled his eyes playfully. “Lots of stories about love and romance, too.”

Arthur’s green eyed gaze dropped to the opal and hummed thoughtfully. “You’ve traveled very far from home, then.”

“I think if you’re going to go somewhere, you better go far.” Alfred took another bite and almost missed the stunned look that passed over Arthur’s face, as if his words had struck something deep within him.

.

Arthur and Alfred spent the rest of the day in the forest. The forest was as green as Arthur’s small home, and he would point out different plants and their purposes. Alfred didn’t really understand much of what Arthur was saying when he pointed out spiky purple flowers and deep red berries, but he liked the sound of his voice and said anything he could to keep him still talking.

“And what about these?” Alfred pointed to all the first things his eyes would land on, nearly holding back a flustered laugh, head dizzy from the fresh air and Arthur’s green, green eyes. “What do you use these for?”

“Those are for…” When Arthur turned to follow Alfred’s finger, his smile fell. He opened and closed his mouth, taking his bottom lip anxiously between his teeth. Alfred immediately felt guilty and he wasn’t sure why, but when Arthur stopped smiling the world was not so bright. They stood frozen, waiting as birds chirped above, before Arthur finally spoke. “What’s the color of those?” His words were too slow, too calculated.

Although Alfred didn’t understand, he wanted to do whatever he could to get rid of this sudden tension. “They’re all kind of different. There are some blueish red ones, purple ones, and a few bright red ones. There’s also some cream colored flowers on the bush.”

“Don’t touch the bright ones, those are poisonous. Everything else can be used for medicine, but carefully.” Arthur looked away from Alfred’s gaze and his face flashed with something close to humiliation. “We should head back.”

Alfred shook his head. “You haven’t finished putting up your spells, and I know you felt bad that you couldn’t yesterday. Arthur, what is it? Look at me.”

Arthur inhaled sharply, still looking anywhere but Alfred. “It’s nothing, Alfred, I just-”

“Arthur, please, you can tell me-”

“I’m colorblind.” Arthur spat the word out like it was venom. “I can’t see colors, I can’t see any of them." Before Alfred could speak, Arthur continued, rushed, as if something inside of him was trying to fight its way out. "Spare me the pity. I know what you're thinking. What kind of witch does that make me?”

Alfred answered without hesitation. “Probably a better one than most, I think.” Arthur’s looked up sharply, and Alfred thought his green eyes were glowing. “No, I mean it. You’ve worked this long working around it, and look at everything you’ve done.” Alfred motioned to the thriving forest around them, how alive and protected everything was. Alfred looked up at the blue sky, at the olive trees, at the dust dancing in the wind. He looked back at Arthur, whose white skin and golden hair flushed in the sunlight, whose eyes were greener than anything around them. “You do amazing things, Arthur. I’ve known you for two days and I think you are absolutely fascinating. You do so much good.”

Arthur’s breath was coming fast, and he stared at Alfred like he was looking at him for the first time.

.

Alfred doesn’t leave that night because Arthur can’t stop asking him about colors. Arthur’s shame slowly melts away with each question he asks, and when he knows that Alfred will answer willingly, they fall from his mouth like a waterfall. They spend a long time in the forest, longer than necessary, as Arthur points to things and Alfred does his best to describe. Arthur explains that every once in awhile, he can cast a spell that lets him fully see the world. It doesn’t last as long as he wishes, but Alfred eagerly tells Arthur he will do his best the rest of the time.

Arthur begins to take notes of what Alfred says, and he knows it’s because he doesn’t want to make the previous mistake again, in the future. When it gets too dark for even Alfred to answer properly, they head back to the cottage and Arthur starts again.

“What do these leaves look like? No, no, I need more detail, I know you can do better than that.”

“She’s been that color this whole time? My word, poor girl, I don’t think that suits her at all.”

“Goodness, I wish you hadn’t answered that one, Alfred, now I won’t be able to eat that for a long time.”

The sky is black when Arthur asks Alfred about himself. They’re sitting in front of the small fireplace, Arthur’s notes scattered around him, momentarily forgotten. If Alfred wanted to, and he wants to, he could reach out and touch Arthur’s flushed cheek.

“What color are your eyes?” Alfred can’t help but chuckle when Arthur almost looks embarrassed at his own question.

“They’re just blue,” Alfred says, and Arthur lets out a delicate laugh that sounds more like a sigh.

“Blue, of course they’re blue.”

“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred’s face lights up playfully despite Arthur’s eye roll. He feels too invested in this moment with Arthur to care what he does. “Do you like my eyes, Arthur?”

“I didn’t say anything close to that, you’re the one who made the meaning up yourself.” Alfred laughs for real this time, loud and disruptive in the quiet night.

“I think you like my eyes, Arthur. It’s okay if you do.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, but when their eyes meet, Alfred knows his answer. They sit quietly together, and Alfred thinks Arthur smells like grapefruit, rosemary, and rain.

Alfred doesn’t leave that night.

.

Alfred watches the fish swim behind the glass, slightly warmed as they pass. Alfred thinks the cats make sense, but he doesn’t understand the fish. Behind him, Arthur is preparing them lunch with the fruit they picked that morning. At his feet, a cat naps.

“Why do you have all these fish? What kind of spells are they for?”

Arthur snorts, pausing to wrap a plant stem around his wrist fondly. He does these sorts of things with his plants idly, tiny caresses, as if by now he doesn’t even realize it has become a habit. “I have them because I like them. I’m allowed to have things that don’t have to do with witchcraft.”

Alfred jumps to look at another one, whistling softly. “I’ve never seen most of these, they’re amazing. Where are they from?”

“Most come from very far away, like the ocean.” Arthur slowly walks up behind Alfred and taps his shoulder. “Saltwater fish tend to be a lot more colorful than ones from lakes.” He turns and picks up a smaller glass bowl, eyes soft. “This one is my favorite.”

Alfred thinks the small fish is lovely. It’s a bright purple that fades into a yellow, colors indistinguishable when they meet in the middle.

“This one doesn’t feel as confusing as the others,” Arthur explains, smiling at Alfred, and doesn't notice how the action takes Alfred's breath away. “The other ones feel like there’s so much going on. But this one, this one lets me imagine what those two colors could be. I appreciate it.”

Alfred takes a moment to just watch Arthur look at the bright fish, face so serene. After a beat, Arthur puts the little tank down and returns to fixing their meal.

Alfred observes flower buds bloom when Arthur walks past them.

.

Alfred continues to find excuses not to leave. He helps Arthur gather firewood, feed the animals, and take out the plants when there’s a sign of rain. He walks with Arthur through the forest picking flowers and leaves and berries. He can’t see the spirits that Arthur points out but he still greets them warmly. While they walk, all Alfred really wants to do is reach out and hold Arthur’s hand.

When they finish with whatever tasks there are to do in this small cottage in this small forest, Alfred tells Arthur about what he’s seen on his travels. He tells him about how he’d work in fields for money or a place to sleep, how he sang strange songs with stranger who offered him a temporary feeling of home. How he fought off ghouls and how he explored forgotten caves.

Alfred and Arthur are sitting in the garden, doing nothing today but staring at the blue sky. Alfred thinks he can almost forget about the town he still hasn’t left to find yet.

“This place, though,” Alfred turns and smiles at Arthur, “This place is the most I’ve ever felt at home.”

Arthur looks at once elated and crestfallen. They’re seated in front of the fireplace again and he looks away into the red flames. Arthur’s eyes glaze slightly over as he gets lost in the dance.

“You’ll have to leave soon. I’m sure you want to get on with your travels, there’s still so much you can see.”

Alfred knows that’s true, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He reaches over and grasps Arthur’s hand, chest filling with hope when the witch doesn’t pull away.

“When we first met, you told me you wouldn’t teach me magic. Has that changed at all?” Alfred threads their fingers together, and he feels whole. “I still really want to try.”

“Honestly,” Arthur grumbles, but fixes Alfred with that startling green gaze, but it’s soft. “You’re too eager for your own good. I would teach you, but I can’t, honestly. Magic is something that runs under your skin, and if someone doesn’t have that, they can’t learn.”

Alfred pouts, and Arthur laughs at the ridiculous look, and Alfred moves the tiniest bit closer. “How did you know you had it?”

“It runs in my family line. I showed signs early as a child, but my mother knew. She taught me a lot when I was a child, but I taught myself on what I can do now, with my plants.” Alfred moves another inch.

“Yeah? What else can you do with them?”

“It’s a little hard to explain. We have a relationship, of sorts.” Closer, Alfred just needs to be closer when Arthur smiles like that. “As time goes on, I can do more with them when they let me.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like this…” Arthur reached over and picked up one of the smaller plants, small enough to be held in his hands. Alfred immediately forgot about the loss of Arthur’s hand in as he watched the scene, captivated. Arthur tenderly held a leaf in his hand and mumbled words, eyes focused. The veins in the leaf, once symmetrical, began to move and bend to form words. When Arthur was finished, he plucked the leaf off the stem and handed it over to Alfred.

The words were sloppy, faint, but they read, _I’m going to miss you_.

When Alfred finally looks up at Arthur, he smile is almost apologetic.

“If you asked me to stay, I would do it.” Alfred’s words were hushed, fevered. “I would stay for you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyes looked pained as he reached up a hand to gently cup Alfred’s face. “I know you would, Alfred. That’s why I can’t ask. You need to be out there, in the world. Not here, stuck with me.”

Alfred didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, so he just leaned in and kissed Arthur. He urgently pressed forward, as if he had been waiting as long as Alfred had for this.

Alfred only thinks about how Arthur smells like grapefruit, and rosemary, and rain, as they kiss. He thinks Arthur smells like home.

.

In the morning, Arthur is gone and Alfred finds a note next to his bed. Holding the note down was the fish Arthur told Alfred he loved, now in a new tank meant for travel. It swam around, unaware, as Alfred read the note.

_“Please take this with you, I’ve enchanted the bottle so it’s unbreakable and safe for travel. If you ever get to the ocean, return it home.”_

Alfred waited hours and still Arthur had not come back. Finally, Alfred wrote a note of his own and left three gold coins in the same spot. It was an exchange; it was a promise.

The sun was still high in the blue sky when Alfred left.

 .

Arthur waits two days until he goes back home. He’s positive Alfred is gone, he doesn’t sense him anymore. He hoped that the saltwater fish will remind Alfred of their time together, and make it home. Arthur feels bitter, and for the first time in a long time, lonely. But he is used to this kind of life, and it’s a life that he has no choice but to live. It’s his calling, his ambition, and he will do it as best as he can for the rest of his life.

When he walks inside, the cottage doesn’t have it’s usual sense of familiarity. Arthur thinks Alfred took that with him, unknowingly. The cats greet him at his feet and he cooes at them, grateful for a distraction, and as usual, all the plants lean toward him. Arthur finds himself in Alfred’s room (it will always be Alfred’s room now, inevitably) and notices the light that catches his usual black, white, and gray vision.

Arthur holds the coins in his hands and they feel unusually heavy, and his throat tightens. Blinking in surprise, he notices the letter, finally. It only has two words written on it. _Thank you_.

A voice behind him speaks, and Arthur doesn’t know why he gasps first; on whether or not he didn’t sense them until now, or who the voice belonged to.

“That was kind of sneaky of you, Arthur. You know I couldn’t turn down a chance to take the little guy home.” Arthur can hear the smile on Alfred’s face, and he feels dizzy. “Luckily, the village I was supposed to find awhile ago was actually really close once I concentrated on where I was going.”

Arthur hears Alfred approach him, his footsteps echoing softly, and yet he still doesn’t turn. “How did I not know you were here?”

At that, Alfred actually laughs, and it sounds uncharacteristically sheepish. “I actually didn’t know if it was going to work. I asked them if they could conceal me when I get back.”

Finally, Arthur turns, and when he looks at Alfred’s face the overwhelming ache of wishing to see the color of his eyes is ever present. “Who did you ask?”

Alfred looks around the room as his answer. “The plants. I guess they listened, but I’m not sure how they did it. I’m very grateful they helped, though.”

“Why are you back?” Arthur’s throat still feels thick and he knows Alfred can hear it.

“Did you really think I could go on without you? I told you Arthur, and I’ll keep telling you. You feel like home.”

“But, your travels. Everything that you’ll miss seeing.” Arthur doesn’t know why he’s arguing because _this_ , this is all he wanted when he first met Alfred that night.

“I could walk all the way around the world and all I’d be able to think about is you.” Alfred’s eyes are burning, and he’s smiling, and Arthur wants to fall into his arms in gratitude. So he does, and Alfred holds him almost painfully. Arthur looks up and they kiss, and Arthur thinks Alfred smells like honey, dirt, and the sun.

It’s only after they break apart does a thought strike Arthur. “What, where’s the fish?”

Unbelievably, Alfred’s grin grows bigger, illuminating his face. “You wouldn’t believe it, Arthur! When I was at the town, I met a girl who was headed toward the sea. I asked her if she could take it with her, and return it home. We ended up trading, and the little guy is still going to go home.”

“A trade? What did you get?”

Arthur’s eyes went wide when Alfred reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver, simple ring. There was no explanation, there didn’t need to be one, and Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.

“We should go to the village together, soon. I think you’d like it. They’ve got exotic plants that I bet you’ve never seen.” Alfred slipped the ring in Arthur’s shirt pocket, reaching out and holding his face. “In the meantime, I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten much in these past few days. Will you make me something, Arthur?”

When the two of them stood in the kitchen, looking at each other more than eating, a distant rumble shook the house. Arthur smiled, Alfred’s hand warm in his.

Rain was coming.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I added an official ending, because I couldn't leave it so open ended or else I'd hate myself.


End file.
